My arm seethed as the shot pierced my skin, the drug within cascading into my blood and mixing with my senses, giving an immediate reaction to my brain.
That was fine.
I sat upright, countless shots littering my surroundings as my eyes dimmed. The moonsoaked room reflected off of its plastic walls, glinting remaining liquid in the small capsules with pointy saviors at the end.
The recent events really killed my mood, you see.
I didn't like it.
So to ease the weight that burdened my shoulders, ofcourse I had to do drugs. But I kind of forgot one thing about these drugs.
They were strong,
And,
They were too much.
My flickering gaze started to darken, and my mind tuned out of rhythm with my body. I could feel the earlier boost of joy rapidly fade, replaced by a cold, sudden feeling in my blood and arms.
But I didn't mind that.
Who does?
Me?
You?
No, invisible audience. Nobody cares.
Whether they say "we were worried about you," but still looks at your condition with a hungry, excited gaze, it means they aren't.
They're all just after my damn wealth.
Being a drug dealer is quite fulfilling, if you ask me.
You know what? I can feel my thoughts slow.
I'm kind of... tired.
The type of tired that I need an escape.
After I escape for a bit, I'll just continue on.
But what's this?
Why the hell is this sleep so.. heavy?
Like it's my last time or something?
Well, fuck no?
It IS my last time FUCKING SLEEPING!
I OVERDOSED MYSELF!
-- That's what I thought the moment the 'sleep' dragged at my eyes, shutting down my nerves at the same time, which I figured that was actually my whole body dying.
And so I'm dying?
Well, this life isn't fulfilling. Everything turned around the second I was born so-- does it really matter if I am?
Oh wait, those bitches are going to start drooling over the money I leave behind.
I don't want that.
But it's not like I can go back now.
They won't even find me- I'm currently on a remote island where the main base is, where everything is stored and I'm hidden in a small, ran stacked house that they said is my fucking place.
It's not, by the way.
Anyways, even if it was, it's still as asrar as my actual house, so I didn't exactly mind it, truthfully.
But another thing.. I'm fluently thinking. Is it because the brain goes for seven minutes after death or something?
Like-- flashbacks and everything goes through your head?
Ah, can that explain why I'm now watching my whole life race behind my closed eyelids?
That's impressive.
Oh, I forgot I punched that girl that I had a crush on.
I saw on the Internet that if you bully your crushes they'll love you back.
Ofcourse it didn't work.
Another thing-- the time me and my friends in highschool tried to drink illegally!
And after that attempt I fucking knifed a random dude.
Those detention centers sure wasn't that pretty if you ask me.
One of the fuckers in there said he'll see me again when I cause trouble and come back.
I was offended-- why would I?
Well, he did.
So he wasn't wrong.
Ohhhh my college entry. And ohh, I never fucking made it.
I had a record on my name now, you see. So the second their eyes saw that shit, their expressions went fake and they said they couldn't accept me simply because of a few mistakes..
- battery,
- attempted murder
- near manslaughter
- illegal use of drugs
- robbery
All that? They were overreacting.
Shit wasn't even that serious.
And I never landed any real jobs, all of that, etc. so I turned back to my criminal record of drugs and started dealing drugs, not just doing them.
I quickly got everything I wanted.
Especially a job.
And I got more access to escapes! Drugs are my escapes.
Isn't that exciting?
But, now it isn't exciting, my escapes worked too well I believe.
I didn't ask to be removed from my seat in life.
Oh, now everything is ending.
I can see the darkness at the end of the tunnel.
The scripts are over.
It's time for me to leave the earth-- for good.
I don't have anymore thoughts.
No wishes, nothing.
Actually, here. Just for fan service.
Shit.
Okay, done.
I could feel my brain collapsing.
And my consciousness completely evaporating.
That's my life.
It's over now.
My life is over-
What the absolute fuck?
The hell is this place?
Another flashback?
Can this bitch of a brain just shut up and let me go?
This one is kind of .. real, though. I can feel myself lying in the bed, my head slightly aching. My face was flushed, hot, as if I have a fever.
So I'm going back to when I have a fever?
..okay.
My breathing is racking in my throat, and my eyes could barely open.
This fever is very serious.. I think.
I don't know, I remember even a small cold had me dying like a Victorian child. That doesn't happen anymore, but..
Definitely when I was younger.
Then, I heard something. A ring of a phone.
My hand instinctively reached out, patting a cool surface before touching a vibrating object.
Black disappeared as my eyes squinted open, looking at the phone.
The number was kind of cloudy. I didn't recognize it, but my body accepted the call and placed it on my ear.
Then, I was met with the most unbelievable shit I could've ever heard.
"You got the job," the voice on the other end immediately informed me, barely taking a break as the other words came pouring into my ear, "the role of the side character."
And mind you fuckers, I have never tried to get this job.
Whats the name again?
Tried to be an actor?